A Harry Potter Anthology
by PenPatronus
Summary: Anthology of short stories, heavy on the angst, drama, hurt/comfort and adventure with Ron, Harry, Hermione, etc. Story #7: Harry wakes up in Hogwarts after the final battle against Voldemort, and has an important moment with Ron
1. It Was You

**A Harry Potter Anthology**

**PenPatronus**

**Author's Notes:** This, as the title clearly states, is an anthology. Each chapter will be a different short story (it just seemed prudent to put these all together rather than have a dozen puny one-shots floating around this site). The stories will be based on the "Harry Potter" books and movies, characters and relationships of canon as well as of my own doing, and will include angst, adventure, drama, plot-what-plot, hurt/ comfort, what-ifs, SRS (scenes-re-scened), missing moments and mild romance (no slash). Please review. Stories ratings will vary from G to PG-13.

**Main / common characters:** Ron, Harry, Hermione, Remus.

**Warning:** Contains spoilers from all Harry Potter novels, movies and supplementary materials.

**Disclaimer** (for all chapters): These characters and places and foundation stories are not mine, though they live in me and in all who read about them.

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**A Harry Potter Anthology**

PenPatronus

Story #1: It Was You

**Author's Note:** This story is a missing moment from the HPOotP movie.

From his knees with his robes twisted around them and his hands visibly trembling, Albus Dumbledore shuffled through the sand and with the tenderness of a father he gathered Harry into his arms. Tense even in unconsciousness, Harry lay stiffly: glasses askew, blood below his nose, extremities twitching. Ron was dimly aware of Fudge sputtering, of the flashbulbs of cameras striking like lightning, of Percy's presence and the pressure of his hand held by Hermione's. He watched as Dumbledore passed his wand over Harry's body, especially along the scar, whispering incantations as he went. And then he seemed to be satisfied by something, and turned his attention to Ron.

"If you would please, Mr. Weasley?"

"Ron. Ron!" It took his name in Hermione's voice to make his numb body move. Ron obediently hurried forward and crouched next to Dumbledore. "He will be all right," the headmaster assured him when he saw the look on Ron's face. Ron could only gulp in response. Gently, Dumbledore unloaded Harry into Ron's arms before rising, a bit unsteadily, to his feet. With dignity, he adjusted his robes and went to intercept Fudge and the Aurors.

"Oh Harry," Hermione whispered as she knelt beside them. Hermione fixed his glasses on his nose, smoothed down his hair and wiped the sweat and blood off of his face. "Oh Harry," she continued to murmur. Ginny joined the efforts by pocketing Harry's wand and brushing the sand out of his clothes. Not knowing how else to help, Neville untied and retied Harry's shoelaces.

Standing over the group with her head tilted quizzically, Luna said in her dreamy voice, "He's quite lucky he wasn't brutally murdered. I expected to find him brutally murdered."

A sob exploded from Hermione and she burrowed her face against Harry's chest. His own eyes suspiciously reddening, Ron tightened one arm around Harry and the other around Hermione, hugging both of their faces to his. He tasted Hermione's tears and winced at the heat in Harry's skin. Ron wished an invisibility cloak the size of a house would drop from the ceiling and block out the rest of the world.

"Sirius…"

It was a whisper, barely a breath, but Ron started. He and Hermione raised their faces at the same speed, up to the same angle. Harry's lips flexed into the word and he exhaled again, "Sirius…"

Remus Lupin was suddenly there as if drawn by his best friend's name. He leaned over Hermione, pointed his wand above Harry and whispered "_Ennervate_."

He spoke the spell gently, and awakened Harry just as gently. After several moments of wincing, frowning, and struggling to hoist his eyelids, Harry blinked up at the six faces and whispered "Is he gone?"

"Sirius?" asked Lupin. "Yes."

"No. I mean Voldemort."

Half of the faces cringed, and then they all grew fearful when they realized that in order for Voldemort to be gone he had to have been there. Neville popped his face out of the group and looked around.

"He and Dumbledore…dueled…Dumbledore?"

"He's fine," said Ron.

Harry nodded. Suddenly he realized that Ron was holding him. Immediately he sat up and both boys inched away from each other. "Voldemort…went inside me, inside my body, inside my—" Harry swallowed, leaned back on his fanned palms, closed his eyes and said, primarily to himself, "It's over."

Remus looked manic. "Voldemort _possessed_ you?"

"I told them it was a miracle that you were alive, Harry," said Luna matter-of-factly.

"I'll say!" spouted Remus. "How'd you get him out?"

Harry frowned. "I don't know, I had my wand…" He looked around for it then, and smiled at Ginny when she handed it to him. "I had it but couldn't use it. I couldn't control how I moved and could only see once in awhile…" Harry brought his hand to his forehead and rubbed his scar. His face paled as he muttered, "It hurt so much…"

Hermione squeaked, sniffed wetly and placed a kiss on Harry's forehead. When she leaned back, Ron saw Harry staring at her. Slowly his face creased into a frown. "It was you."

"What?"

"And you." Harry looked at Ron, who shrugged at Hermione.

"And Mum and Dad and Sirius and…" A look of weariness suddenly flooded Harry's face as the remaining color drained. All precautions of maintaining some macho act were thrust aside and Harry buried himself in Ron and Hermione's arms. "It was you, it was you…"

A flashbulb popped, and smoke floated around them. Immediately Tonks and Moody appeared and dragged the cameraman away none too gently.

Harry's voice was muffled by Ron's shirt. "Can we get out of here? Please?" Ron hugged him tighter.

"Here." Remus took off his own shoe and turned it into a Portkey. "Thirty seconds." Neville, Luna, Ginny and Hermione all stabbed a finger against it. Not wanting to move Harry, who seemed to have fallen into some sort of stupor, Ron unraveled a shoelace and wound it around Harry's thumb. And then he grabbed the heel, held onto Harry, and the group disappeared.

**PenPatronus**


	2. Charlie's Choice

**A Harry Potter Anthology  
**PenPatronus  
Story #2: Charlie's Choice

**Author's Note:** This story takes place during book seven: "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows," before Bill and Fleur's wedding.

It was a couple hours before dawn when Charlie Weasley Apparated onto the Burrow's front lawn. He exhaled an annoyed puff of visible air at the light in the kitchen window. A worrywart as always, his mother must have stayed up all night waiting for him to arrive. Charlie had hoped to sneak in and fall asleep on the couch, and not wake up until he smelled fresh coffee. But with the war going on, and the wedding (Charlie wasn't sure if his mum would rather deal with the Delacours or the Death Eaters), undoubtedly no one in the Burrow was getting much sleep lately. Charlie hoisted his rucksack higher on his shoulder (careful to avoid a burn courtesy of Norberta), pocketed his wand, and summoned his most relaxed smile to present to his mother.

Charlie was tired. They were in war, and his family was in it. And here they were, trying to celebrate in the midst of it.

He'd need magic to smile.

Charlie wasn't expecting over a half-dozen people to be up.

"Charlie!" Bill Weasley rose from the kitchen table with a wide grin. The two oldest brothers hugged. "There's my best man."

"Bill, don't yell, you'll wake up everyone else!" Molly admonished.

"Yeah, Fleur needs her beauty sleep," a sleepy-eyed Ginny said from another chair. She was in her pajamas but, Charlie noticed, not the cute fuzzy nightdresses he was used to seeing her in. She was a teenager, and Charlie suddenly remembered his mother saying something about her dating Harry Potter.

Molly kissed Charlie on both cheeks, looked him up and down, seemed to find him satisfactory for the moment, and insisted that he sit after his journey. Tall candles were on every surface of the dining room which was slowly drowning in ivory wax. The rest of the house was dark, cold and silent. Even the knitting needles that usually clicked on through the night were silenced. Arthur got up, took Charlie's pack, shook his hand and offered his son his chair.

"Thanks, Dad, but not before I take a good look at—oh, come on."

The grinning Fred and George stood beneath the archway that led to the living room, and they had their hands clamped to the sides of their heads. The twins, having lost their twin-hood, had figured out how to play the same old game. "Guess, Charlie!" the twin on the right insisted. Charlie rolled his eyes at Bill and, having learned long ago to simply play along, he pointed at one hand, then another, then a third. A hand dropped one by one with a perfectly good ear beneath it. And then Fred stepped aside as Charlie came up to George and gently pried away his fingers. He knew the ear would be missing, but all the preparation in the world could never be enough. Charlie's throat constricted at the sight of the void.

"Close one, Georgie" he murmured. George shrugged, and Charlie ruffled his hair affectionately.

Although he spent most of the year in Romania, his parents kept Charlie up to date and he knew the details of every danger his family members were in. And to think they'd been worried when he went off to train dragons! The Weasleys never voiced it, but it seemed as if they'd had been in danger ever since an 11-year-old Ron had sat next to Harry Potter on the Hogwarts Express.

And, though they never voiced it, it seemed as if they'd been incredibly blessed and lucky since that very same day.

Sometimes, Charlie found himself wishing that Ron had never met Harry. He didn't know The Boy Who Lived very well, but he wondered if they would be better off. But when he thought that, though he couldn't help it, he felt guilty. It was obvious that Ron and Harry were close, that Harry was now as much a part of the family as Charlie was, but still…Charlie's baby sister had been possessed by Voldemort, his father had been attacked by a giant snake, his older brother had been mauled by a werewolf and his younger brother had an ear sliced off. And Ron, Ron had been knocked unconscious by a giant chess piece, broken a leg, chased by Death Eaters, attacked by a possessed brain, and poisoned almost to his death…

Charlie usually arrived too late to see the wounds, but this one was permanent. Their precious George was forever disfigured.

There was both an unofficial curse of luck and of unluckiness on the Weasley family, and Charlie couldn't help but wonder if they would balance out in the end.

"Hi Remus. Congratulations on the wedding."

Lupin sat in the corner, sipping on a firewhisky. He raised the glass in greeting. "Good to see you, Charlie."

"Yes," Molly said as Charlie sat down. She put her hands on his shoulders and muttered, "All of my children are here for once…" She sighed dramatically, and Charlie winced as her fingernails dug into his shoulders. "But not for _long_, apparently."

"Mum, I'm planning to stay a few days after the wedding but—"

"She's not talking about you," Arthur told Charlie quietly. He folded his arms to his chest and leaned against the kitchen counter. "She's talking about Ron."

Everyone in the room shifted their weight and looked down at their shoes. Charlie stared at his father with a frown and noticed that the candlelight didn't reach the valleys between the wrinkles on Arthur's face. "What—what about Ron?"

Arthur's expression was beseeching, and Charlie immediately knew why. Molly had been revved up, and she began to pace and mutter. "My youngest son fancies himself a—a—well, he's a _lunatic_ is what he is but I haven't the foggiest what he actually sees himself doing…He thinks he's off to save the world or something…"

Charlie raised his palms to stop his mother's ramble before it swung into full swing. "Mum, slow down, please. Tell me what's going on."

Bill leaned against the same wall as Fred and George. "Charlie, Ron is leaving."

Charlie blinked. "For Hogwarts?" A horrible thought occurred to him: _Is Ron "leaving" like Percy left?_ That would destroy his mother. "You're just talking about Ron and Ginny leaving for Hogwarts, right?" He glanced at Ginny, and she shook her head, saying "no."

Charlie's heart ached at the sad helplessness in his father's eyes. "Ron, Harry Potter and their friend Hermione aren't going back to Hogwarts. They're leaving to do some—some sort mission that Dumbledore told Harry about before he died. They won't tell us what it is. Harry claims that Dumbledore forbade them tell anyone what they're doing."

"Even you? The Order?"

"Even us."

"And Dumbledore never spoke of any of this to the rest of you?" The Order of the Phoenix members shook their heads. Charlie's jaw dropped. His fists clenched. "But that's—that's _mental_! If it was something that important to the war, why would he just tell a kid about it? And if Dumbledore told Harry—why does _Ron_ have to go? What's he got to do with any of it?" Charlie pictured himself tying Ron to the kitchen table for his own good.

"Thank you!" Molly sputtered, ignoring her own warnings to stay quiet. She clapped her hands and glared at Remus, then at her husband. "Finally someone is talking sense around here!"

Remus raised a palm pleadingly. "Molly…"

"Mum, you've always said you trust Dumbledore!" Fred said.

"And if Dumbledore trusts Harry—" George began.

"Albus trusted Severus _Snape_, if you all recall," Molly hissed, and her head snapped around not unlike a snake's. "I think that proves he was rather _shortsighted_ when it comes to whom to trust. He trusted a former Death Eater to teach and children to, to do _what_? To somehow _defeat_ He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? What did he think Harry could do?" The room went silent. Everyone averted their eyes from one another. Even Fred and George had the decency to shut up.

"My son," Molly whispered, "and Harry and Hermione too, if I have my way, will not go gallivanting off to his—to his _death_, now matter what Dumbledore said! No matter what the cost! He's seventeen and whatever he's thinking of doing he's not trained for it! It's suicide and I'll jinx him myself if I have to!" she shrieked, flourishing her wand to cement the point. She looked around the room, and her eyes landed on Charlie. Her expression shifted from rage to desperation. "Charlie, Charlie please…talk to him, will you? I've tried but Ron looks up to you so much, you know? He'll listen to you." Charlie glanced up at Arthur, who stared stonily back: not encouraging, but not discouraging. Molly fell to her knees, her stained apron cushioning them, and took her son's hands. There were fierce tears in her eyes that Charlie couldn't bare to see, yet he couldn't look away. "Will you talk to him? Will you? Please?"

Charlie looked around the room, from Bill to the twins, Ginny to Remus, and then at his dad before turning back to his mum. _It_ is _ludicrous_, he thought. _Every time Ron gets involved in something like this, he gets hurt. And if it's something to do with Voldemort, he'll get killed. He should be safe in school. He should let the Order deal with Voldemort. He was just a kid. _

Charlie decided that whatever the secret mission was, Harry Potter was not worth it.

"All right…I'll try to talk him out of it. What do you want me to say?"

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Charlie was about to knock on the door to Ron's bedroom when Harry Potter bumped right into him on his way out. His glasses weren't on but after squinting for a moment, Harry smiled and waved a toothbrush in greeting. "Charlie. Hi."

Charlie swallowed, and offered his hand for Harry to shake. "Harry. Long time. Good to see you." Charlie looked at Harry Potter for a moment. They were about the same height, slightly skinny and slightly muscular with carefully balanced posture as Seekers tend to have. His jet black hair stuck out at odd angles and his pajamas hung in odd layers. He certainly was a kid, not a warrior. Harry rubbed at the sleep still in his eyes and smiled tiredly.

"Hey, Ron," Charlie called into the room.

A gruff grunt came from somewhere inside. Harry rolled his eyes, and Charlie let him pass, closing the door behind him. There were distinct shapes to the lump beneath the blankets of Ron's bed and Charlie was careful to land on a leg when he sat on it. "Oi!" Ron yelped. He burrowed his head out of the sheets and glared at Charlie. "That may be how you greet a dragon but you're around humans now, mate."

Charlie smiled tiredly. "Morning, bro."

Ron sat up in the bed, adjusted his t-shirt (that used to be Charlie's) and released an enormous yawn. "Hey, Charlie. Just get in?"

"A few hours ago."

"Swell trip?"

"Not bad."

"Good. Good to see you. Goodnight." Ron lay back, but Charlie hoisted him back up by his sleeve.

"Come on, you know Mum's got work for us to do. On your feet."

"Mum's mental with this wedding stuff!" Ron said. His eyes were closed. He was still trying to sleep even with Charlie holding him up. "I haven't had a decent night's sleep in weeks!"

"That's probably because you and Harry keep each other up all night. Come on, now, you'll survive, this isn't the hardest thing you'll have to do in your life."

Ron snapped open his eyes and glared at his brother. "Bloody torture, it is. I'm not a House-Elf!"

Charlie found his entrance. "Speaking of which, I've been talking with our parents. They've been telling me some interesting things about you."

Ron's face paled. The light in the room paled with him, as did the temperature. Ron smacked Charlie's hand away from his shirt. Self-righteous anger replaced the sleep in his voice. "So I guess Mum sent you up here to talk some sense into me, huh? Or maybe kidnap me to Romania where I'll be safe?" Ron practically climbed over Charlie as he struggled out of bed. "I'll tell you the same thing I've told everyone else, Charlie: Dumbledore left Harry a mission. Harry needs help. I'm going with him, and don't try to stop me." Ron snatched his toothbrush from beneath a shoe and a wet towel and thundered towards the door.

"Ron..."

"Shut it, Charlie, I mean it."

Ron had never spoken to him like that, and Charlie winced. He gathered himself and dived in to what he knew he had to say. So many things depended on it.

"Ron, Harry doesn't need _help_. He needs _you_."

Ron was nearly at the door when he stopped at Charlie's words. Charlie could see that he was struggling to interpret them. Ron frowned, thinking that he was being tricked. "Huh?"

"I'm not here to stop you." Ron turned around as Charlie stood up from the bed. The elder Weasley brother stuffed his fists in the pockets of his trousers and shifted his eyes from Ron's to the floor beneath his bare feet. "Look, Ron, you're right. Mum wants me to convince you not to leave. She wants you safe at home and at Hogwarts. She wants to know where you are and what you're doing and that you're all right. And I…I mean, the rest of us want that too but…but more than that I want you to always do what you think is right. I came up here to tell you…to tell you how _proud_ I am of you."

Charlie folded his arms against his chest. "I came to tell you that I admire your loyalty and bravery. And also that you're a _maniac_ for doing this, but everyone said I was a maniac when I left for Romania." Ron chuckled, and Charlie took that as a cue to continue. "Ron, I trust Dumbledore. I barely know Harry but I trust him too, and I trust you. And I don't understand what's going on but I do understand why you want—why you need—to go. You're going because Harry's going. He's your best mate, and he needs your help. Actually he probably doesn't even need help…he needs you. There's a difference. You should go. I don't care what Mum says. I'm not going to try to stop you."

"Thanks," Ron choked. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight. "Thanks, Charlie."

Charlie nodded. He took a step closer. "This is war, Ron. You're old enough to know what that means, and what it could mean. I don't—I don't want these next couple of days to be awkward between us because there's a possibility that they could be—well, you know…the last days or something. So even if I thought you were in the wrong, I still wouldn't try to stop you because our relationship is more important. I don't want you to be angry with me, or with Mum or Dad or anybody because you _might_ never see them again. The last things people say to each other should never be bad." Ron nodded. He was listening.

"Just be really careful, all right? When I lie to Mum about not trying to convince you to stay, I don't want to regret it. And if you need anything anywhere in the world when you're…anywhere in the world, just owl me. I mean it. You won't have to tell me what's going on, just let me know how I can help you and Harry."

"Yeah. Okay. Thank you. Thanks."

Charlie shrugged, and took two more steps. "What are brothers for?" His smile was no longer light-hearted as he looked at Ron. He reached out and straightened Ron's pajama top, and brushed his bangs out of his eyes. His voice came out much softer than he'd intended. "Be careful, Ronnie."

They both lifted their arms at the same time, hugged with the same pressure, and simultaneously released each other. Many things had scared Charlie Weasley in his life, and most of them had big teeth and breathed fire. But nothing terrified him more that the thought of his little brother going off into some dangerous Unknown, and there was nothing he could really do to protect him. All he could do was part on respectful, loving terms…and hope they would meet again.

**Mischief Managed**


	3. Rescue

**Author's Note: **I wrote this years ago, before "Order and the Phoenix" came out.

**A Harry Potter Anthology**

PenPatronus

Story #3: Rescue

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The Giant Squid had a tentacle around Hermione's ankle, and she was in the half-frozen lake before Harry and Ron could get to her.

"_HERMIONE_!"

"Ron, Ron wait!" Harry reached out to grab him but Ron tossed his wand into the snow and dove head-first into the water. He disappeared and they were gone for so long that the water went still, and Harry put his wand between his teeth and waded in after them.

But then there was a ripple.

---

Hermione gasped as her mouth broke the surface and she inhaled the anesthetizing air. Something was holding her up and pushing her forward. She tried to bend her joints to swim but they refused to move. Through waterlogged eyes she saw an arm reaching toward her, connected to black hair. She wheezed in the snowy air, her lungs weighed down, burning from her struggle to cough.

Harry…it was Harry in front of her. All she could think to do was stretch out her own stiff arm and wait for her rescuer to deliver her limp body into her best friend's embrace.

"Come on, Ron, you're almost there, you can make it just take my hand, Hermione, take my hand!"

It was Ron behind her. Now she could feel his panting breath even through her nearly frozen hair. Splashes were heard from where he was kicking his legs frantically. His valiant effort motivated Hermione and she too started to flail her legs, trying to help.

Finally, they reached the shore. Barely even feeling Harry pulling her up and Ron pushing from behind, Hermione was hoisted into Harry's arms, dousing him with freezing water as he hugged her to his chest. "Harry Harry…" she sobbed, the reality of the situation suddenly hitting her along with the shivers that vibrated throughout her soaked body. Harry had lowered her to the snow, tearing off his robes and wrapping them around her, his own teeth chattering. In all the commotion, he'd forgotten to help Ron.

The youngest Weasley brother was crawling on his elbows, his chin sliding on the snow as he breathed shakily. His usually puffy hair was straight down and strewn at odd, Harry-like angles across his face. Finishing wrapping Hermione, Harry turned back to witness an odd look on his best friend's pale face. Undecidedly, Ron's facial expressions betrayed a mixed emotion between relief and pain as he stared at Harry with a grin.

Harry laughed and shook his head, crawling across the ice again to pull Ron away from the water. "Ron what were you thinking? I'm supposed to be the hero of these bloody adventures!"

Ron grinned at that and attempted to hoist himself up, failing miserably from weakness as he collapsed back down into the water. Ron sputtered out "Ww-e-ll Ha-Ha-Harry, the side-sidekick should do some-thing f-fright once in a-a-wa-while…right?"

Harry shook his head at his best friend and stretched out on his stomach to grab Ron. Ron reached back but right before their fingertips…

"Ahhh!"

"Ronnnnnn!"

The red hair disappeared beneath the surface suddenly as if he'd been tugged down. Hearing the yell, Hermione scrambled to her knees and crawled over to Harry who was desperately swirling his arm around the ice cold water.

"What is it? Where'd he go?"

Harry shook his head, biting his lip, "I don't know! I don't see him! He just disappeared all of a sud—"

An unearthly wail suddenly interrupted both their thoughts as the two Gryffindors stopped reaching into the water and listened. About twenty feet in front of them, a small wave sized ripple erupted, shaking the shattered remains of the ice. The sound had originated from underwater.

"Oh no…oh no oh no oh _no_ NO _NO_!" Harry sputtered, "That was the squid! The bloody squid just made some type of burping noise!" Harry's face contorted into fear.

Hermione couldn't speak, couldn't move as she endured the gentle waves created by the ripple. After several moments she sputtered out, "You don't think, you don't think that…no, no way." She threw off Harry's robe and started toward the water, "There is no way in Hell that bloody fish ate the man I lo—"

"Hermione wait!"

"Harry we can't, it's been over two minutes at least, we can't afford to—"

But suddenly, something of color caught Harry's eye and before Hermione could blink, her best friend dove into the water. She spotted his target a second later. A red head of hair was slowly floating towards the surface about 15 feet in front of them. Harry, though slowed down the cold, was desperately swimming towards Ron's body, his arms and legs working machine-like as they chugged forward. Hermione stared as bubbles began to break at the surface of the water above Ron as the red hair sunk back down. Bubbles mixed with blood.

After what seemed like an eternity, Harry had Ron by the chest and was desperately dragging his best friend towards Hermione. Gasping from weight, fear and exhaustion, Harry grasped Hermione's outstretched hand and pulled himself onto the icy shore, shaking violently. Hermione was sobbing ice cube-like tears.

Ron was a dead weight. They managed to drag him up and lay him between them. Empowered by his own fear-driven adrenaline, Harry went right to work tearing off Ron's outer clothes and listening for any sign of life. Hermione pulled violently on her hair when she realized Ron wasn't breathing. Muttering to himself and to Ron, Harry began pushing violently on his best friend's stomach, encouraging the water bubbling in his friend's mouth to surface. Ignoring the blood leaking from a jagged cut around Ron's waist, Harry practically sat on his abdomen, forcing the water to come out.

After an eternity, water suddenly shot into the air as a whale had surfaced. Ron's nearly blue lips had parted and were expelling water by the pint as Hermione leaned him onto his side. After a desperate moment of prayer, a cough erupted from Ron's shivering body, followed by another which was followed by a violent fit. For several minutes, Ron hacked away, struggling for breaths in between. Harry encouragingly patted his best friend's back while Hermione stroked the red hair and whispered soothing words in Ron's white ear.

Finally, the coughing slowed and Ron opened unfocused eyes to stare in the direction of his best friends. After several moments of looking into Hermione's eyes, he spoke a raspy, "Are…are you…you ok?"

Hermione snorted and struggled to keep from crying out loud, "Am I ok? Am _I_ ok? Look who's talking." Hermione's throat clenched at those last words. With a shivering, lopsided grin, Hermione lowered herself next to Ron, placed her right hand beneath his pale cheek, and lifted his head towards hers ever so slightly.

If Ron had even wanted to stop it, there was no way his weak arm could've prevented it. Hermione leaned in and planted a dry kiss directly on his trembling lips. A sudden warmth cascaded through both of their bodies. They parted long enough to look meaningfully into one another's eyes before retreating into a deeper embrace in which all color came back to Ron's lips as they immersed with Hermione's.

Harry meanwhile watched this in a stunned awe, partially wishing Ginny was there to warm him up…But no such luck and in spite of the whole, cold, shivering, terrified catastrophe, Harry Potter laughed out loud. After a moment, his two best friends joined him and all three grasped at each other in a comforting hug. As students and teachers began to rush from the castle, Harry and Hermione, who were supporting a nearly frozen Ron, dragged themselves up towards the warmth of Hogwarts castle.


	4. What Remained in Remus

**Author's Note: **This scene could've taken place during chapter thirty-two, "The Elder Wand," of "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows."

**Summary:** Harry, Ron and Hermione stumble upon Remus on their way to the Whomping Willow. (I thought Remus deserved a death scene.)

**A Harry Potter Anthology**

PenPatronus

Story #4: What Remained in Remus

Sizzling spells of green and red, of yellow and violet lit the grounds enough for Harry to avoid rocks and bushes and the still bodies lying in the grass. The Whomping Willow was just ahead of him, and Ron and Hermione were just behind. Harry clutched his wand and willed more speed out of his legs. It was time to find the snake.

"Ron! Come on!"

Harry tried to stop too fast and had to brace his fingers against the grass to keep his balance. Hermione was ten yards from him, and Ron was kneeling on the ground twenty from her. For a moment Harry's heart stalled, but after a second look he was relieved to see that Ron wasn't injured. The image of Fred's unseeing eyes was still raw in his mind.

"Ron!" Hermione cried again. He was kneeling beside a body.

Ron looked up. Damp dirt and ash mixed with the sweat on his face. "It's Lupin! He's—" A blue curse blazed past Ron's head, alighting his blue eyes. Ron yelped and ducked.

Harry broke back into a sprint, casting a shield charm around Ron and Lupin as he went. Hermione reached them first, and covered Ron and Harry as they quickly carried Remus Lupin out of the line of fire, as they had with Fred. Two figures had emerged from some unseen shadow of the battle. Deep in a duel were Nymphadora Tonks and the Death Eater Dolohov. Her hair was violently red, blazing like her eyes. Harry knew that look. Dolohov had murdered someone she loved, and Tonks was fighting to kill.

"Get down!" Harry shouted as one of Dolohov's deflected spells soared towards them. Harry pulled Ron and Hermione down against Remus' chest.

The beating heart Harry heard didn't surprise him nearly as much as the sudden gasp.

"_Nymphadora!_"

Hermione and Harry jumped back on their haunches, and Ron leapt to his feet from surprise. Remus' eyes were open, his mouth working. He stared at Harry, and recognition settled in his eyes.

"James."

Harry looked at Ron, who shrugged. Then he looked at Hermione, tears hovering in her eyes, who nodded. She silently mouthed the words "comfort him."

"That's right," Harry said, the words choking him. Harry cupped Remus' white face, skin as white as a full moon. He placed the heels of his palms to Remus' shoulders and rocked and pushed, trying to keep Remus awake. From the pressure, blood, deathly red blood billowed up from between the threads of Remus' coat. The blood pricked Harry's fingertips as if it were spiked.

"Remus!"

"Hemophilia Hex," Hermione breathed from Harry's right. Blood was soaking through nearly every inch of Lupin's body and pooling around their knees. Even the wrinkles on his cheeks appeared to have cracked open.

"Harry…" Ron's voice from above was soothing but urgent. "It's too late, Harry, the snake—"

"No." Harry spoke the word as if it were a spell: with conviction, with certainty. It was a command.

"James…" Remus whispered, "Forgive me?"

In the background, Tonks was starting to overpower Dolohov. The only spells he could get off were in defense.

"For what?" Harry asked as himself.

"Harry…I've tried to protect Harry…I'm not his godfather but…There's a horrible battle, James, forgive me but I'm not sure where Harry is…" Remus coughed on the blood leaking from his mouth.

"Shhh," Harry soothed. "It's alright, Moony, Harry's fine…And you _were_ a father figure to him…The battle's over…Everyone's safe."

Peace replaced the weariness in Remus' face. "Good." Suddenly he tensed again. "Where's Lily…Where is Sirius?"

Harry gulped. "Waiting for you. They—We've missed you very much." Harry took Remus' hand in his. "Close your eyes…They'll be here when you wake up."

"Sirius will be here?"

"Yes. Close your eyes."

Remus obeyed. He trusted. He started to close his eyes, but his last breath beat him. Remus, like Fred, exhaled his last breath while smiling, and the smile froze forever.

Just as Harry, Ron and Hermione entered the Willow's roots, a figure came out from around the still tree. She raised her wand and a smile wormed out from her face. Nymphadora Tonks hadn't seen her, but Bellatrix Lestrange never fought fair.

She stepped over Remus' dead body, and cursed Tonks in the back.

**An End**


	5. Standoff With Snape

**Author's Note: **This story wonders what might have happened if Ron hadn't seen the silver doe, and then arrived at the pool in the Forest of Dean a few minutes late (in "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows").

**A Harry Potter Anthology**

PenPatronus

Story #5: Standoff With Snape

Ron Weasley was convinced that Albus Dumbledore held some secret grudge against him and had used his last will and testament for revenge.

_Honestly_, Ron thought. _Could Apparate me right into her lap but no, Dumbledore, that would be too _easy In truth he didn't know if it was the Deluminator's fault or the effectiveness of Hermione's protective spells, but he didn't care. It was torture being so close to reuniting with his best friends, only to then stagger around a freezing forest in the dark, yelling until his throat was raw. It seemed he was far more likely to get caught by Snatchers again than stumble upon Harry hunting for mushrooms. Ron felt that he could emphasize with Harry who had always gotten half-answers, half-truths, half-help from Dumbledore. That was exactly what Ron had now.

With a loud harrumph, Ron threw his bag down, sat on a pile of ice-covered leaves and leaned back against a tree. His breath, visible in the cold air, surrounded him and glowed in the silver moonlight like the wisps of a Patronus. _I'll nap for a few hours_, he decided, _rest my voice, and then keep looking._ He wished his father would've taught him how to make his Patronus speak. Then Ron could sic his dog on Harry and tell him he was trying to find him. _Another thing that would be too easy_, Ron thought glumly. He folded his arms to his chest, crossed his outstretched legs, and shut his eyes.

A quarter of an hour later a sudden sound of splashing reached him. At first he listened with one ear, but when it continued he added the other. Fearing Death Eaters (and bears), but hoping for Harry or Hermione, Ron opened his eyes and raised his wand. "_Lumos_."

The sound was coming from behind him, maybe fifty yards away through shadows and brush. An owl hooted overhead, and Ron thought of Hedwig. He crept along as quietly as possible, wincing whenever a leaf cracked. When he spotted a small clearing, he extinguished the light from his wand and ducked his head. What he saw when he peeked around a tree threw him into a rage so blinding he couldn't think straight, could only instinctively react. He didn't even think to raise his wand because he wanted so desperately to just get his hands on Severus Snape's throat.

Snape was crouched behind Harry and had his arms around his chest, an unconscious and nearly naked Harry, and Ron was convinced that Snape was trying to drown him. Ron ran at Snape with all of his speed, and slammed into him with all of his strength. The older wizard saw him out of his peripheral vision, through his wet black hair at the last moment, but only got out a "Weas—"

The impact knocked all three men into the pool. The icy water slammed into Ron with the force of a charging centaur and he struggled to keep his eyes open. Through bubbles and shards of ice, Snape's billowing black cloak and a few hovering water weeds, Ron found Harry's hand. Ron yanked, hard, but Harry came to him easily. His black hair floated eerily around his cheeks and his fingers limply in front of his closed eyes. Harry's lips were slightly parted, and not putting up a fight. Ron wrapped his arms around his waist and kicked for the surface.

When their heads were out of the water, Harry's face fell limply against Ron's chest. Grunting, Ron struggled against his heavy wet clothes as he heaved Harry onto shore, pushing at his back, then his thighs, then his knees until Harry was completely out of the water. Only then did Ron look back down.

The shadow that was Snape's body hovered just beneath the surface. Snape appeared to be just as unconscious as Harry, and suddenly Ron spotted why. At the bottom of the pool, which was only seven feet deep, sat the sword of Gryffindor. And if Ron was any judge of the redness starting to surround Snape's face, it was clear that the Death Eater had hit his head on the hilt when they fell in. Ron only hesitated a moment longer before, to his own surprise, he dove back under and saved Severus Snape from drowning. He grabbed the sword on the way.

Ron keeled forward on his hands between Harry and Snape. His face was nearly in the snow as he panted and coughed, and he was exposed to the air for only a moment longer before he began to shiver violently. Satisfied that Snape was still knocked out, Ron twisted to his left, to Harry.

"Harry, mate, that was a close one, eh?" Harry's eyes were still closed. Ron shook him by the shoulders, spraying more water on his own face. "Oi, Harry!" Harry didn't stir.

Ron was promptly warmed up by a jolt of electricity that was pure panic.

Harry's skin was blue.

Ron pressed an ear to Harry's chest and held his breath as he listened for Harry's. Nothing. No beat, no breath. Tears burst from Ron's eyes, blurring his vision. None too gently he rolled Harry onto his side next to Gryffindor's sword and smacked him repeatedly on the back. Water dribbled from Harry's lips, but no inhale followed. Ron saw the problem then. Beads of blood circled Harry's neck beneath the chain of the Horcrux that was choking him. The locket was so tight that Ron couldn't even get a fingernail between metal and skin.

Ron got to his feet and followed his own footprints back the way he came. He grabbed his wand from where he'd discarded it in the snow, and sprinted back to Harry's side. Cursing at his body for shivering, at his hands for shaking, he pointed his wand and held it as still as possible. "_Diffindo_." The chain broke, and the locket rolled off Harry's neck and landed, quivering, on the blade of the sword. Ron dropped his wand and leaned his face in close to Harry's.

"Come on. _Come on_!" Hot tears slipped off Ron's nose and melted the thin film of ice covering Harry's scar. "Harry. Harry, please."

Nothing. Still nothing. Behind him, Snape let out a low moan.

Ron rolled Harry flat. He pressed his fists into Harry's stomach, forced breaths between his blue lips, then pushed his knuckles into his chest. Water continued to billow from Harry's lips and blood from his neck. Ron repeated this until _he_ was nearly blue, and then kept going.

A shuffling of feet. Ron looked back just in time to see the fist coming at his jaw, but not in time to block it. He was rolled over in the snow a few times before coming to rest on his side. When the exploding stars were finally blinked away, Ron looked up to see Snape pointing a wand at Harry's chest.

"_NO_!"

White lightning burst from the wand and pierced Harry's heart. Harry's body convulsed and nearly jumped into the air. Ron released a sob and buried his face in his hands. He'd failed, he'd failed, he'd failed. Harry was dead. How would he tell Hermione? How would he tell Ginny? How would the fight against Voldemort go on?

But then Ron heard the sound he'd been waiting for. _Breath_.

When Ron wiped the snow out of his face he saw Harry's chest heaving, his fingers clenching the snow, his mouth spitting water and blood. Ron scrambled forward, and his face was what Harry's eyes saw when they finally opened. Ron knew he looked a mess with wet hair in his face and a swelling cheek and a goofy grin. But Harry blinked up at him, took the image in, and smiled.

"_Harry_—" Ron gasped with relief. He gathered his friend into his arms and hugged him until Harry nearly turned blue again. Ron held him like a child: Harry's face against his shoulder, arms around each other's backs, Ron patting Harry and whispering words of encouragement.

Harry had just started to shiver and his joints just started to cramp up when a soft thump heralded a pile of clothes dropping beside them. Both men looked up, and Harry saw Snape for the first time. He shook his head as if Snape were just a mirage.

Though it was Snape who had jumpstarted Harry's frozen heart, Ron still glared at him. "Why?" Ron demanded. The only logical reason he could find as to why Severus Snape would want to save Harry Potter's life was to kill him again. Or to take him to Voldemort so that the Dark Lord could kill him.

Snape raised his wand and pointed it at Ron's face. "Get those clothes on him." Harry had shut his eyes again, and was curled against Ron's body, desperate for warmth. Coughs started as his body attempted to return to normal. Harry shook uncontrollably and was unable to help as Ron dressed him from head to foot. Even if Ron couldn't protect Harry in a few minutes, he'd do all he could to preserve his life in the present. Ron kept wary eyes on Snape all the time, who had cleared a patch of ground with his boot before using his wand to start a fire. Finally Harry's coughs turned to gasps, then his gasps to wheezes. When he was finally able to swallow, his breathing evened out. Ron dragged him close to the fire, laying Harry on his side. Once Harry was comfortable and recovering in a light stupor, Ron stood between him and Snape and resumed his glaring.

"You almost killed my brother," Ron hissed, thinking of George.

Snape's face remained expressionless and the wand remained pointed at Ron's chest. "Not that I care what you think, but since it won't matter in a minute I'll tell you that was an accident. I was trying to save Lupin."

"Oh and I suppose cursing Dumbledore off the Astronomy tower was an accident too?"

This time Snape's expression shifted for a moment. It almost looked like it pained him to hear that name. "That was planned."

"I won't let you take Harry to the Dark Lord. You'll have to kill me."

"Fine," Snape said. "Come to think of it, I have no instructions _not_ to kill you."

"He sent you for this, didn't he." Ron held up the locket, the Horcrux. "Your master sent you to kill Harry and retrieve this." Ron swallowed, knowing what he had to do. "I'll give this to you, and I'll go with you without a fight. You can have the sword too. You can package me up all nice and pretty for the Dark Lord, but leave Harry here. Just don't hurt him."

To Ron's surprise, Snape frowned, confused. "I insist that you keep that. I'm sure that bobble matches your eyes quite nicely, Weasley. And if I wanted to hurt Potter, I assure you that you'd be no match for me. This—"

"I swear on Merlin's nose if you touch him again I _will_ kill you," Ron hissed.

Snape snorted then. "Kill me, Weasley? You are bent on ruining everything tonight aren't you? It might interest you to know that if you kill me you seal the fates of all your little friends at Hogwarts. Without me the Death Eaters will hunt down your family in no time. Without me alive Potter doesn't have a chance." Snape blinked. "I'm not going to kill him. I'm not going to kill you."

Suddenly Ron's thoughts went back to an earlier statement of Snape's. "Then what do you mean telling me this won't matter in a minute?"

For the first time, Snape's lips curved into a slight smile. "_OBLIVIATE_!"

Later on, Hermione followed a curious silver doe Patronus to a clearing in the forest where she found Ron and Harry asleep between a pool and a fire, with the locket and the sword of Gryffindor lying next to them.

**Finite**


	6. Don't Leave Me

**A Harry Potter Anthology**

PenPatronus

Story #6: Don't Leave Me

Just a few hours before dawn, Ron entered the tent to retrieve Harry for the last watch, and was surprised to find that he was already awake.

"Should've asked me to sing you a lullaby, mate," Ron joked when Harry admitted that he'd barely gotten a wink of sleep the whole night. "Really keen on this Hallows business, aren't you?"

"Can't stop thinking about them," Harry confessed through a long yawn. "Maybe it's not worth losing sleep over, but…I don't know…" Harry shrugged, sighed, and rubbed his eyes. After a few stretches he rolled out of bed and bestowed a friendly clap on Ron's shoulder on his way outside. He'd been doing that almost hourly since Ron had returned. It was as if he were afraid Ron was merely a mirage, and needed physical evidence to prove he was really with him. Ron didn't mind. Something had broken between them when he'd left almost a month before. And not only had that been mended when he'd returned, saved Harry's life and destroyed the locket Horcrux, but their relationship had…matured. It had never been better, and Ron had never felt so blessed and thankful for it.

But his relationship with Hermione, on the other hand…

Ron attempted to deafen his thoughts when he climbed into bed after stripping down to his pajama pants. If he wasn't careful, thinking about Hermione would keep _him_ awake all night.

Ron was exhausted, and sore from their recent adventure at Xenophilius Lovegood's. The Dittany had quickly healed the dozens of cuts along Ron's legs, arms, hands, and face, but his entire body felt like one giant bruise. Even that pat from Harry hurt, as did the blanket covering him. All of him was black-and-blue from that chest of drawers that had been blasted onto him. If Ron could, he would've filled a tub with ice and sat in it for a day or two. And so he was dozing within a few seconds of curling up in his sheets, nearly asleep when a voice suddenly startled him.

"Ronald?"

Ron instinctively raised both his wand (which he'd become accustomed to sleeping with), and his fist. Hermione had appeared at his bedside like a ghost. She wore a white robe and her hair was clipped up, leaving a few tendrils to hover about her cheeks. For a moment Ron was convinced that she was sleepwalking. There was a glazed expression on her face that he couldn't have read even if the lamps were lit.

"Hermione, what are you doing up?"

"I'm still angry with you!" she snapped, apparently louder than she'd meant to because she glanced at the entrance to the tent where Harry might have heard. Satisfied that they had no audience, she flicked his thigh with her hand and he scooted over so that she could sit on the side of the bed. "I—I just wanted to tell you that I'm still angry with you for leaving!" she said much softer, and with a slight stutter.

"Hermione, I'm sorry, I really am!" Ron said for what felt like the hundredth time. He sighed and propped himself up onto his elbows. "What can I do to—Wait, you're still up at three in the morning because you're angry with me?"

Hermione gave him a _don't-flatter-yourself_ kind of look before taking a deep breath and continuing. "I also want to make it clear that I don't—I haven't _chosen_ Harry you, you, you _git_. I love him, of course, but he's like a—"

"Brother," Ron finished for her. He sat up further so that he was face to face with her, though he couldn't seem to look her in the eyes. "I know. I mean—I understand…now."

"Well, good!" said Hermione. "I just, you know…all three of us should be on the same page about everything and—"

Ron headed off her ramble before it could pick up speed. "And me?"

Hermione blinked. "Huh?"

Ron swallowed and gathered all the courage he had. He leaned in close enough to feel breath and heat from her. "What am I…like…to you?"

Hermione snorted. "Not like a brother, that's for sure." Suddenly, even in the near darkness, Ron could see that Hermione had turned a violent shade of red. She composed herself quickly and said, "You and I are friends…when you're not acting like a bloody idiot."

"Rare occasion, that is," Ron muttered. Hermione's face flooded with color again, but this time it was from laughter. Ron's heart expanded at the sight. He loved making Hermione laugh.

"Well," said Hermione after a moment. She looked down at her hands, one of which was nearly touching Ron's. She drew it away as if his skin were hot, and took a deep breath. "We best get some sleep then. Goodnight, Ron." When Hermione stood, she braced an arm against Ron's stomach and he couldn't help but yelp from pain.

"Oh!" Hermione gasped, instantly withdrawing her hand sitting back down again. "Oh Ron, I'm sorry, what'd I do?"

"Nothing," Ron grunted, clenching his jaw and hugging his stomach.

"Let me see, let me see," Hermione insisted. Ron only put up a fight for a moment more before he leaned back on his hands and allowed Hermione to examine the bruising. "Oh goodness you're all swelled up!" Before Ron could say anything, Hermione disappeared into the tiny kitchen and reappeared with a dishtowel that she'd iced down with her wand. With a tenderness Ron didn't know she had in her, Hermione gently placed the cold compress against his chest.

"Now I know how Harry feels," Hermione muttered under her breath.

"Huh?" Ron asked, wincing from the sudden cold. Goosebumps sprung up across his flesh.

Hermione swallowed visibly. "You know, how he feels so guilty every time someone gets hurt or—or killed? It was my idea to go to Mr. Lovegood's, my _fault_ and—" Tears appeared in Hermione's eyes and sparkled there. "And now look at you. Those Death Eaters almost got us, we almost got blown to bits, we could've…we could've…" The thought was so terrible that Hermione couldn't put it into words. Instead she concentrated on adjusting the pressure of the ice she held against Ron's chest.

Ron suddenly remembered chapter four of _Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches_ and his diligent studying kicked in. Slowly, with a gentleness equaling hers, he reached up and drew the palm of his thumb across Hermione's cheek, wiping away her tears. She closed her eyes at his touch, and her hands slackened against his chest. Ron took the icepack from her, leaving her hands where they were, and tossed it beside the bed. Then, going slowly to give her the option to pull away if she wanted, he reached his long arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug. She didn't resist. Hermione pressed her face into the small corner of his shoulder that wasn't bruised, and sighed.

"It's not your fault," he whispered into her hair, fighting the urge to inhale its scent. "You and I mean it when we say that to Harry, and I'm completely sincere now. You're alive, Harry's alive, I'm alive. We're ok, it's all right, it's ok…"

After a few moments of simply breathing she said "Ron?" Hermione raised her face until their noses nearly touched. Her hair framed her face, forcing Ron to gaze right back into her brown eyes.

Suddenly Ron realized that being blown up and nearly captured by Death Eaters wasn't the biggest thing that was bothering her.

Her fingers touched his cheek right where he'd touched hers. "Don't ever leave me again," Hermione whispered, pleading. Fresh tears trickled down her cheeks, off her chin and down his bare chest. "Please don't leave me, Ron."

"_Never_," Ron instantly promised. He'd never spoken more vehemently about anything in his life. "I swear, Hermione, I'll _never_ leave you." And to prove it, he wrapped them both in his bed blankets. He held her until she stopped crying, and then he held her until she fell asleep.

**An End**


	7. After and Always

**Summary:** Harry wakes up in Hogwarts after the final battle against Voldemort, and has an important moment with Ron. Short and sweet one-shot about tragedy and friendship. Ron / Hermione.

**After and Always  
**PenPatronus

Harry Potter groaned, rolled over in bed and breathed in the ancient woodsy-waxy scent of Hogwarts. He felt awful—thirsty, hungry, his every limb ached and his chest felt like it had been branded. He must've had a particularly nasty Quiddich game. After pumping his legs to get the sheets and covers off, Harry's bare feet landed on the wooden floor of the Gryffindor dorm and he padded slowly toward the bathroom, stretching his aching limbs as he went. Out of habit he glanced in the bed beside him, and was unsurprised to see that Ron was still asleep. But it was probably at least a half-hour before breakfast. He wouldn't have to wake him up just yet.

Harry tried to remember if he'd finished all of his homework the night before and what his first lesson was. He was still struggling past that layer of grogginess that follows sleep when he glanced at himself in the mirror above the bathroom sink. Harry started, and released a sharp cry when the avalanche of memories surfaced.

_Apparating into Hogsmeade…Dumbledore's Army…Carrow spitting at McGonagall…the students defending him in the Great Hall…Hermione and Ron kissing…the fire and the diadem…Fred's sightless eyes…the dementors…Nagini striking Snape…Molly wailing over Fred's body…Snape's memories in the Pensieve…seeing his parents, Remus, Sirius…submitting to his own death…talking to Dumbledore on the Hogwarts express…Narcissa Malfoy's voice…Hagrid carrying him so gently, his fist-sized tears soaking Harry's neck…Neville beheading Nagini…Molly screaming spells at Bellatrix…and finally, the ultimate duel with Voldemort. _

Harry stared at his reflection. He wasn't a student in clean pajamas who needed to brush his teeth and wake up his friend for breakfast. His toothbrush wasn't there, and he didn't have homework. He was a dazed, pale man whose skin and clothes were covered in dirt, ash and blood. His black hair was singed. His back was bruised. The wound on his forehead had bled through the bandage Hermione had forced on him before he'd gone to bed. Harry unbuttoned his shirt, fighting the achiness in his bones, and saw the raw lightning bolt-shaped scar that crossed his heart from his bottom rib to his opposite shoulder. The dried red stains around the cuffs of his jeans weren't from a Quiddich match—they were from wading through a pool of blood.

_Fred Weasley's blood. _

Harry lunged for the toilet and threw up the sandwich Kreacher had made him.

Knuckles rapped against the bathroom door. "Harry? Mate—are you all right?"

Harry raised his face to answer, but his stomach rebelled again.

"Harry? Harry, I'm coming in."

Harry tried to tell Ron not to, but a cough started deep in his chest and forced him to surrender.

Behind him, the bathroom door moaned as it opened. He heard Ron step inside, stop, then walk forward to the sink and run some water. A moment later a cup appeared in front of Harry, and he drank from it like a dying man. When Harry's stomach was empty, his mouth rinsed out and his cough suppressed, Ron helped him to his feet. Harry squinted at his friend. Ron had showered and put on fresh clothes—a pair of jean shorts that were too big for him and a shirt that was too small. The entire upper right corner of his face was one bruise and there were more scrapes and burns on his arms than freckles. He seemed to be favoring one leg, and Harry understood why when he looked down and saw the raw burn from Ron's calf to his ankle.

Seeing his confusion, Ron said, "You've been asleep for almost two days. We didn't wake you up because we figured you needed it since you, you know, died and all."

Harry blinked. "Right."

"It's about one in the morning, but if you want to eat something I can scrounge through the kitchens. Or I'm sure Mum would make you something if I woke her up."

Harry frowned, still staring at Ron's burned leg. Then he looked up into his friend's eyes and whispered, "Fred. Remus."

Ron visibly swallowed. "When I first woke up I thought I'd dreamed everything."

"But it wasn't a dream, was it."

Ron shook his head. "No. No." Ron blinked rapidly before speaking again. "Fred's dead, Harry."

Panic suddenly sliced at Harry's heart. Had he remembered everything? "Hermione? _Ginny_?"

Ron put his palms up as if surrendering. "They're fine. We're fine, Harry. And it's over. You destroyed Voldemort, you did it. It's all over."

Harry bent forward and braced his hands on his knees, trying to lasso his breathing. "Sorry," he gasped, embarrassed that he couldn't seem to control his body, his emotions, anything. And then he suddenly stopped trying for control. Harry toppled forward to his knees and released a sob of grief simultaneously with a laugh of joy. Just as quickly, Ron kneeled beside him and wrapped his long arms around Harry's quaking shoulders. Harry clung to Ron, and Ron clung to Harry, and for several long minutes the two men didn't give a damn that they were crying like babies in front of each other.

"I'm glad you're safe," Harry muttered when he got both the control and the courage. "I'm so glad you're ok."

Ron wiped at his eyes with his shirt sleeve and nodded. "You too, mate, you too." Ron ducked his face and shook his head while staring at the bathroom floor. "Harry, when I saw Hagrid carrying your body I…I…I went numb when Fred died, and then when I thought you were dead I went…It felt like every bit of me just crumbled and sank and…" Ron suddenly let out a harsh laugh and gently punched Harry on the shoulder. "Don't do that again, ok?"

"Not planning to," Harry chuckled. He looked down at the scar on his bare chest and a laugh gurgled up again. "Wow…"

"_Yeah_ wow," Ron laughed. He stood, and extended a hand to pull Harry up. Before they turned to leave the bathroom, Ron clapped Harry on the back and quietly said, "Love you."

Harry nodded and returned the gesture. "Love you too, Ron."

A half-asleep Hermione was sitting up in Ron's bed and Harry wondered why he hadn't noticed her brown hair when he'd gone by. She also looked clean and refreshed—her hair still a bit damp from a shower. "Everything all right?" she asked through a yawn.

"You slept with Ron?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

"Mmm hmm," Hermione answered. But then she sat up straighter with an alarmed look. "I mean, I slept under the covers and he slept on top of them and it's not like we—oh Harry, don't you _dare_ tell any—"

Laughing, Harry went up to Hermione and hugged her as tightly as he'd hugged Ron. She hugged him back, not caring that the dirt on his clothes was being transferred to hers. "I love you," he whispered to her, kissing her on the cheek.

Hermione hiccupped and dug her face into Harry's shoulder, holding him close. "I was so scared, Harry," she whispered. But then she pulled back and faced him and she was smiling. "But you did it. You destroyed him."

"_We_ did it," Harry corrected.

Ron brought over more blankets. He wrapped up Harry, wrapped up Hermione, and then wrapped up all three of them in a tight circle. They sat together on the bed until dawn, talking and laughing and crying about the past, and about their suddenly bright and shining future.

**The End**


	8. Inexpressible

**Summary:** Arthur Weasley reacts to his son's death. Missing moment from "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows." Pure angst, tragedy.

**Inexpressible  
**PenPatronus

In the Great Hall, teardrops were hitting the stone floor like rain on a tin roof. A hundred wailing voices rose and crashed in waves of grief. Arthur Weasley limped along, carrying a dead body in his arms, looking for the color red—the color of Gryffindor, of Weasley hair, of blood. Nothing in the chaos was still except for the body in his arms.

He spotted Weasley hair: Molly, kneeling beside Tonks on the floor. Nymphadora Tonks' hair was half-way between mousy brown and emerald green—the two colors she'd been focusing on in her last moments. She was pale, and so motionless that the rest of the universe had to be rotating around her. Gently, Arthur lowered Remus Lupin's body beside his wife's. And then he took Molly's hands and lifted her into his embrace. Molly held onto him like she was about to drown. Her heart beating against his stomach centered him and for the first time in hours, Arthur remembered to breathe.

They breathed together for a luxurious half minute. Arthur's limbs trembled, weak from relief that Molly—_Molly_—was in his arms. But then that cold sting of terror replaced the warmth. An icicle pierced his heart. From over Molly's shoulder, beyond the bodies of their friends, he saw more Weasley hair: his son, Percy, carrying a prone body in his arms. Arthur blinked, and saw more color: red hair, red shirt, red blood dripping onto Percy's shoes. He didn't speak, couldn't have even if he'd tried. Molly must have felt the change in his body, the change in the room, the change in their lives. She looked up at him and then pivoted, following his line of sight.

How many times had Molly mixed them up? How many times had he? Neither ear was visible because of the blood, so there was nothing distinctive for either of them to judge. But they did. Arthur knew which one of his twin sons was being carried towards him, which one of his babies. Molly took a deep breath, stealing the remaining air out of Arthur's lungs with it.

There was only a whiff of a name in her exhale: "_Fr…_"

Molly sagged against Arthur. He lowered her to the floor just as Percy lowered Fred. They each did so with the utmost care, as if depositing a sleeping baby into a crib. But Arthur was not dreaming, and though his son's eyes were open, he was not asleep. Molly reached trembling fingers towards Fred's neck to check his pulse, but Percy intercepted them. He shook his head once, and with that final confirmation Molly threw her head back and released the kind of shriek only a grieving mother could produce. Arthur caught her as she collapsed back against his chest. Percy straightened and took a step backwards, just as Bill and Fleur stepped forwards out of the crowd. Arthur saw his eldest son clench his jaw and both fists. Fleur gasped something in soft, desperate French. She moved forward, but Bill wrapped strong arms around her waist, holding her back. Fleur fought against him for a moment before she released a single loud, violent sob.

There was the sound of a wand dropping to the floor and clinking against the stone as it bounced. As suddenly as if she had Apparated, Ginny was there. She cocked her head and frowned down at her dead brother, and then cocked her head to the other side. She didn't say anything, just turned on a heel and disappeared back into the crowd.

Molly's face contorted as if she were under the Cruciatus. She flopped forward and lay atop Fred's body. The tears came then, bursting from every pore. Blood that had pooled between Fred's skin and clothing burst upwards and soaked Molly's shirt. Arthur leaned against her from behind, patting her on the back, getting into a mindless rhythm. He stared at the blood and could taste it in his mouth. _His son's blood_. His son's life…His son..._My son_…Arthur's tears came too, then. A silent flood soaking the back of Molly's shirt as quickly as blood soaked the front. He had no concept of what his facial expression was, if he was hugging Molly too tight, where he was, if his own heart was still beating…

Molly's sobs momentarily became spoken words: "Oh my baby, my son, my baby…"

Thundering footsteps preceded Ginny's reappearance. Percy, Bill and Fleur all moved to stand behind Arthur, who was kneeling behind Molly, who raised her face to George.

George Weasley moved like a sleepwalker: His lips slightly parted, his eyes half-way lidded, his arms hanging at his sides.

George stared questions at his mother, his father, his brothers and sisters. And then he raised his chin until he was staring at the Great Hall's stormy ceiling, and he stared those questions right through it and into the heavens. His knees gave out. George folded forward, his palms smacking against the floor as he landed on all fours at Fred's head. A wet gasp burst from him and tears splashed down Fred's nose. He began to shudder as if from cold. Bill raised his wand just in time as George turned around and vomited onto the stone floor. Without a word Bill erased the mess.

Arthur digested the scene as if from a distance, as if watching it on a Muggle television. His senses had retreated into himself. Dimly he was aware of stroking Molly's hair, of Ron joining their vigil, of Ginny hugging Hermione, of Harry walking away…

Arthur had half a mind to call out to the boy, to ask Harry if he was ok, to ask what was happening, to ask what would happen next.

But Arthur's eyes couldn't stay on Harry, not when Fred's were wide open and seeing nothing that Arthur could. Remembering when those bright blue eyes had first opened when he was born, Arthur leaned over Molly, placed his middle and forefinger above Fred's eyelids, and gently closed his son's eyes.

**The End**


End file.
